Harry Potter and the Paradox
by I'd rather eat Randy
Summary: The reaper, his hallows, and apocalypses, oh my! The end of the wizarding world is nigh! …Or is it? Harry Potter may be the world's only savior yet again. In a desperate struggle to save his godson, Harry fights an uphill battle to reclaim Teddy's body and soul. Travelling through time, and stopping magical extinction wasn't part of the plan, but he'll do anything to save his son.
1. Derailed

I decided, after months of debating, that I wanted to rewrite the original version of this story into something with a little more flow. In other words; I'm fleshing this stuff out and changing the plot a bit in order to make this story sound a hell of a lot better to me and to everyone else. Thus, I am now presenting you all with this new version, which I have put even more time and love into. A lot of stuff is going to be the same, but some things are vastly different in this new version. I hope you all will enjoy my story nonetheless.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Warnings: Lots of violence, and cursing. Slash in later chapters.

Normal speech: "Hey."

Thinking: '_Hey.'_

Death speaking: _**"Hey."**_

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_**It begins around what should have been the end. The part in a story where you would hope to see everyone get a happily ever after should be right about here, -but its not. That's a different story, and this isn't an ending. **_

_**It's just the beginning…**_

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After everything he's been through, Harry doesn't know why he's so shocked when he realizes that he's reached the end of the line. His whole life has been nothing but an uphill battle, and he's always known that his odds of surviving through the war were distressingly low.

Perhaps it's because he's disappointed that after everything, his existence is going to end, not with a bang, but with barely even a whimper. He's fought so hard to survive, but today he must go willingly to his grave because everyone's lives depend on it. There are no alternatives, and no phoenixes have appeared to save him. His unique brand of luck seems to have finally run out, and the only way to truly destroy Voldemort is for him to die as well.

If he doesn't do this, then everything he's fought for will have been for nothing. He's actually relieved that he'd discovered the piece of Voldemort's soul within him before it was too late. The idea of the Dark Lord wearing his skin is horrifying. He refuses to let himself be the reason the war is lost. If his death is the price of success then so be it.

As Harry walks further within the woods, Voldemort's booming voice interrupts his internal musings, alerting him that he's close. Choking back the natural fear that urges him to leave before it's too late he steps into the clearing before Voldemort, resigned to his death. Suspicious red eyes gaze at him, obviously wondering why Harry is making this so easy, but Voldemort doesn't hesitate for long.

As the green light of Voldemort's Avada Kedavra draws closer, Harry opens his arms and welcomes death like an old friend.

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Harry has no idea how much time has passed when he opens his eyes to find himself lying on the floor in an unfamiliar, glaringly white setting.

Confused, Harry struggles to his feet to get a better view of his surroundings. Turning his head to the side, he notices something moving in his peripheral vision. Curiously, he walks towards the solitary bench in what appears to be an endless train station. Drawing up next to the seat, he crouches down for a closer look.

Emaciated bloody hands snap towards him, causing him to rear back. 'What the hell is under there?!' Harry wonders nervously.

_**"**__**You can't help him Harry…"**_An eerie voice rasps. Whirling around, Harry comes face to face with what can only be described as Death. He isn't afraid; after all he's already dead. He has no reason to fear it. Death's facial bones shift into a distorted grin, as if it can hear his thoughts. _**"**__**You brave, brave boy… You **__**WONDERFUL**__** boy… Come walk with me,"**_It croaks, motioning Harry forward.

Warily, Harry moves towards the dark specter, which turns to begin walking at his side.

Pointing back at the deformed shape underneath the bench, Harry asks, "What is that thing?"

_**"**__**A part of Voldemort, sent here to die,"**_ Death responds, gliding along.

"So there really is a piece of him inside me," Harry frets, rubbing at his scar.

Death shakes its veiled head, then replies_, __**"Not anymore. It was destroyed moments ago by Voldemort himself."**_ Empty eye sockets bore into Harry_, __**"You were the horcrux he never meant to make."**_

Harry ponders the revelation that he's finally free of Voldemort, and then he realizes, "I have to go back, haven't I?"

_**"**__**That's up to you,"**_ Death replies, with a toothy grin. _**"We're at a train station, yes?"**_ It casually points out_, __**"So you have a choice to make. If you stay here, you will never be allowed to pass on. However, if you so desire, you'll be able to board a train today… But **__**ONLY**__** today."**_

Harry looks down the neverending tracks, "Where will it take me?"

_**"…**__**On,"**_ Death answered simply. The serious moment is interrupted by a wail from the shriveled up piece of Voldemort. Harry glances back, feeling sorry for it, and also strangely drawn to it. Before Harry can decide whether he dares to approach the wretched creature or not, Death hisses_, __**"Unless you want that soul to latch onto you again, I suggest you avoid touching it."**_

Harry sighed, exasperated, "Is this real or is all of this just happening inside my head?" _'Apparently, I can't escape my problems even when I'm dead,'_ Harry mulled.

Death cackles_, __**"Of COURSE it's all happening inside your head! But why should that make it any less real?"**_ Harry has no answer for that, but he knows what he has to do. Reluctantly he sits on the bench, and watches sadly as the only train he'll ever see passes on.

"What now?" Harry wondered aloud, not sure what would happen to him. He had no idea how this not-quite-dead stuff worked after all.

_**"Now its time for us to part ways… But I'm sure we'll meet again someday my brave little Master,"**_ Death murmured, bowing before Harry who is taken aback at the motion.

Before he can ask what Death means, the whitewashed world blinks out of existence.

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When Harry comes to, he almost opens his eyes before he realizes that he's back in the forbidden forest, surrounded by Death Eaters. Trying not to tense, he focuses on lying as still as possible across the cold hard earth. Just as he starts panicking over how he's going to escape this unscathed, Mrs. Malfoy leans in to take his pulse. As she gently places her fingers to his throat and Harry tenses to attack, Narcissa quietly demands to know, "Is my son alive?"

Carefully -hoping no one else can see him- Harry signals Draco's safety with a slight incline of his head. He doesn't know what to expect, but he is relieved when in return for his help, Narcissa lies and confirms the Dark Lord's victory. A wailing Hagrid is then forced to carry his 'corpse' back to the school, which is a relief, because it means that no one but Mrs. Malfoy figures out that he is alive. Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Voldemort begins bragging about his victory, and many people begin to give up hope, until Harry leaps to his feet and begins firing at the Death Eaters.

With renewed faith, everyone rushes into battle after Harry. The fight that ensues is long and arduous. It is in no way an easy victory, but thanks to Voldemort carrying a wand that will never obey him, Harry defeats him with a powerful expelliarmus. For the first time in his life, Harry feels free. _'And powerful…'_ Harry thinks as he glances down at the legendary wand he now possesses.

Gingerly gripping it in his hands, time seems to slow down as he considers what he should do with it. The right thing to do would probably be to destroy it, or at least to put it back with Dumbledore. _'On the other hand there are still death eaters out there… I should probably hold onto it at least until they're all locked up. After that I'll get rid of it for sure, but for now I should really hold onto it,' _Harry decided. Mind made up, time goes back to normal, and Harry slips the wand into his pocket just as the cheering crowd reaches him.

The victory celebration kicks off and Harry meets hundreds of new people wanting to congratulate him, but he can't find the one person he wants to see. Ginny's been missing for hours, and no one seems to know where she is. Harry planned on asking her to marry him if they both survived. He's starting to worry that maybe she hasn't, when a Slytherin student informs him of where he can find her. Normally Harry would have been suspicious, but he's too relieved over the news that someone's seen her. Thanking the student, he eagerly races to Gryffindor tower.

He's rushing up the rubble-ridden stairs, trying to figure out how to propose to her, when he smells an acrid smoky aroma. Idly, he wonders if someone has the common room fire going, as he states the password to get in. The door swings open and smoke billows out, momentarily blinding him. Blinking through watery eyes, Harry rushes into the room worried, and freezes. Lying on the rug before the common room fire is a human heart.

Pulse pounding in his ears, he looks into the fire and sees Ginny's half burnt head staring sightlessly up at him through the flame.

"No… No, no, no… Ginny!" Harry chokes softly, as he collapses to his knees. "Please no…" He weeps, casting a quick aguamenti to stop the flames. Gently cradling her heart to his chest, it dawns on him that the horrible smell filling the room was the rest of Ginnys flesh roasting in the pyre, and he cries even louder. He doesn't know how long he sits there, sobbing over her heart and the remains of her silky red hair, but eventually someone starts screaming nearby, gathering a horrified crowd.

"Who did this?!" Ron bellows through his own tears. Yanking a near comatose Harry to his feet, Ron shakes him and demands to know, "Who. Did. This?!"

"Stop it Ron! Can't you see he's hurting too?!" Hermione shouts, tugging Harry away from Ron's murderous grip.

Blinking back tears, Harry remembers the Slytherin who had been oh so helpful earlier, and feels a rage like molten lava fill his gutted chest cavity. Gently placing Ginny's heart on the table, Harry stumbles out of the portrait hole, followed by Ron. Hermione might have followed too, had Mrs. Weasley not arrived and needed someone to comfort her. Distantly Harry notes that it's probably for the best because he refuses to deal with Hermione's morals when the love of his life has just been murdered. Storming down the stairs with Ron, who can sense Harry's intent, he opens the marauders map, that he'd foolishly forgotten about earlier, and begins the hunt for Marcus Flint.

The inbred idiot was hiding in the dungeons. Stalking down halls and staircases, Harry turns and weaves until he comes to Snape's old classroom. Pausing at the door Harry takes a moment to consider just what he'd like to do to the piece of shite hiding behind the doors, but Ron doesn't pause for any such considerations, and slams right on inside.

"Avada Kedavra!" Ron howls, hitting Flint directly in the chest. The light immediately fades from Flint's eyes and he collapses to the floor.

"What have you done?!" Harry snarls slamming a startled Ron against the wall, practically spitting as he hisses, "He deserved worse than that! So much worse, but instead you gave him a painless death?! Do you honestly think that's what he gave Ginny?! That monster carved her up alive and then threw her remains in a fire! He deserved to suffer!"

"I- I just thought-," Ron starts, looking ashamed.

"NO!" Harry snarls, shoving Ron again, "No, you didn't think! You didn't think because you never think about anyone else! All you care about is yourself, but this wasn't about you! This was about making the bastard who tortured the woman I loved -your sister, to death pay! You've just destroyed the only chance we had to properly avenge her!"

Releasing a pale, shaken Ron, Harry heads towards the door, determined to leave and hide away for eternity. He feels like his heart has been ripped from his chest. The pain and useless rage is unbearable. He might have won the war today, but everything he'd hoped to gain from it has been taken from him. Even his chance for vengeance has been stolen from him.

"Harry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Ron cries, grabbing his shoulder.

"Sometimes sorry just isn't good enough," Harry says tersely, jerking out of Ron's grasp and trudging away.

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Harry doesn't know what he's going to do with his life now. Before the final battle he'd accepted that he was going to die, and had been prepared for it. Instead he's lived to witness his hopes and dreams be ripped to shreds.

These days it's just him and Kreacher at Grimmauld. The elf evidently likes him now because he'd helped to destroy the locket. It's strange, but Harry's not going to complain when the result is that the house is dust free, and there's always food when he gets hungry.

"Master Potter has a letter," Kreacher grumbles, ambling over to him with an envelope extended.

"Thanks," Harry mumbles quietly, opening it. The message simply states that his presence is required at his earliest convenience. He doesn't know why, since he's not supposed to start working as an Auror for another few weeks. He hasn't even decided if he's actually going to accept the position or not yet. Sure there's still a few Death Eaters out there, but he doesn't know if he wants a career hunting them, and its not like he needs any more money.

Feeling a tug on his leg, he looks down and sees that Kreacher is holding a coat out to him. Sighing, Harry decides he might as well just get this over with, and makes his way to the ministry where he is then directed to the minister's office.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, thanks for coming by so quickly!" the new minister Kingsley booms as he lopes towards him carrying a small, blanketed bundle.

"You wanted to see me?" Harry asks, barely moving into the office before Kingsley stops him.

"I really wish I had more time to sit and chat for a spell, but I'm rather busy with all this clean-up work we've had to do," Kingsley says, looking apologetic as he gently transfers a wriggling object into Harry's arms.

"As a small thanks for your contribution to the war, I've pushed the necessary paper work through, so you can take your godson home today. I'm sure you've been worried sick about the little fella," Kingsley explains before moving to close the door on Harry, "Once again, congratulations on your victory! I wish you luck with your new son!" The door shuts before a bewildered Harry can get a word in edgewise.

Looking down uneasily, Harry takes in the thing that had been placed in his arms. Light brown eyes look up at Harry beneath a mop of bright turquoise hair and tiny hands wave at him excitedly from within the gray wrapping. Harry is overwhelmed, and doesn't know what to think of this new development. He'd completely forgotten about the Lupins' son.

Worse, he has no idea how to take care of a baby. Apparating home, he goes to the living room and sits down with his Godson Edward, aka. Teddy. He's so very tiny looking in Harry's arms.

"Hey there little guy," Harry murmurs, gently running a hand over feather soft hair that is messier than his has ever been. _'At least all that hair seems to suit the little guy,'_ Harry decides absentmindedly as he brushes his fingers across tiny freckled cheeks. Snuffling, the baby grabs at Harry's fingers curiously, before finally managing to catch one. Chewing on the digit, Teddy begins rumbling happily. Laughing at the odd sound, Harry wonders if it's normal for infants to purr.

"Silly baby; Remus was a wolf, not a kitty!" Harry coos, wiggling his fingers playfully within the infant's grip, causing him to squeal with excitement. It's so adorable it makes Harry's heart melt. In that moment he knows with one hundred percent certainty that somehow he's going to do this. He's going to keep Teddy and raise him right. He can start by making the world a safer place for Teddy. He'll accept the job as an Auror, which will take up a lot of his time, but now he has an actual reason to.

Hiring a baby sitter is out of the question, since so many of the dark lord's followers have yet to be apprehended and they might see it as an opportunity to attack his new family member. Luckily he won't have to.

"Kreacher!" Harry calls, gently bouncing Teddy.

"Yes Master- why does Master Potter have a baby?" Kreacher asks surprised.

"This is Edward, he's going to be living with us from now on. Would you be ok taking care of him while I'm at work?" Harry queried.

"Yes, but where did Master Potter get a baby?" Kreacher inquires, curiously moving closer.

"The Lupins named me godfather before they passed," Harry explains, moving Teddy to where Kreacher can see him better.

"A Black family baby?" Kreacher asks, looking far more enthusiastic.

"I guess?" Harry confirms unsurely.

"Kreacher will prepare a room for Master Edward," The elf assures him, before disappearing with an excited pop. Harry feels much more content knowing that Teddy will be safe at home with the elf, while Harry makes sure that no ones around to hurt his baby.

"Don't you worry Teddy, no one will harm a single curl on your head while I'm around," Harry swears, leaning down to give Teddy an Eskimo kiss.

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It turns out that child rearing is an area that Harry naturally excels at. The amount of diapers little Edward can go through is monstrous, and he never seems to want to sleep, but it doesn't really bother Harry. After all, he'd taken care of three extremely demanding arse holes for the entirety of his childhood, and Teddy never even comes close to their level. So no, the diapers, and the lack of sleep don't really bother Harry since he's never gotten much anyway. Besides, it helps to take his mind off of what happened to Ginny, and Merlin knows he needs all the help he can get forgetting that memory.

Work as an Auror is demanding, but again, it's a welcome distraction. Any Death Eaters he encounters on the job either flee or attempt to kill him, which is all pretty normal for Harry. The only new thing is that later he's bored to tears filing what is apparently 'necessary' paperwork. Despite the long hours and his exhaustion, at the end of each day he gets to come home to his son's always changing but smiling face. That toothy little grin makes it all worth it.

His kid is way too cute; the neighbors think so too, but they don't really like Harry. They all believe he dyes his poor baby's hair, which incites ire and disapproval from the neighboring parents. Harry would correct them, but then he'd just have to obliviate them after explaining why every color of the rainbow is Edward's natural shade. Even one of Teddy's eyes changes color, but no one else seems to notice that. Teddy's right eye used to alternate between colors as well, but ever since it turned into a green mirroring Harry's own, it hasn't changed again that he's seen.

At around a year old Teddy learns to walk, and refuses to leave Harry's side. Room by room Teddy toddles after him babbling nonsense. Every time Harry tries to go upstairs, Teddy will hang onto his robes, pouting until Harry takes him with him. When Teddy's says his first real word, and it's 'Dada', Harry is elated.

After Dada, Teddy rapidly learns to say far more useful things like 'I wanna tweet', which is often accompanied by a pouty face that Harry has a lot of trouble saying no to. At five years old, that face almost convinces Harry to get him a kneazle. Ted's had a few years to perfect it, so it's extremely deadly. Harry is very close to caving in, when things take a turn for the worse.

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"_**DAAAADDYYY**_!" Teddy screams, startling Harry awake. Fear grips his heart as Harry dashes out of bed, crashing into walls as he rushes to his son's bedroom. Bursting into the room he discovers Teddy's not there, and after frantically searching the house he realizes that his son isn't anywhere inside.

"TEDDY! TEDDY WHERE ARE YOU?!" Harry howls as he backtracks and heads down a hall he's already been through. Just as he's about to start hyperventilating, because he can't find his son, he sees that the front door is open. There are enough wards up around Grimmauld to stop an army from getting in, but he's never thought to put any up to stop his kid from getting out. Whatever has happened to his son now is his fault.

Leaping down the front porch stairs he desperately calls out for his son again, praying that it's not too late. Listening closely he hears screams coming from the park across the street, and books it towards the sound. Following a trail of blood that has been spattered down the sidewalk, he finds a rogue werewolf dragging Teddy, who is kicking and screaming, off by the arm. Patting his pockets, Harry pales as he realizes that he doesn't have a wand. He has no doubt that if he takes the time to run inside and retrieve it, his son will be dead by the time he returns.

He isn't going to let Teddy die because he can't get to a bloody stick. Knowing that he doesn't have a lot of time, Harry focuses on his magical core like he used to do when he was young. When he still lived with the Dursleys, sometimes Harry had had to use wandless magic to heal himself, or he'd get angry and something would happen. It was always highly effective, but he'd never fully relied on it because he hadn't seen any of his friends or teachers using wandless magic. At the time it was just another thing that would separate him from his peers, and he hadn't wanted to be stared at anymore than he already was.

Now he prays that a wandless Avada will work since he's so out of practice. Harry swears that if he succeeds, and he's able to save Teddy, that he'll Master wandless magic -staring people be damned. He never wants to feel this helpless ever again. Drawing deathly green energy into his palms, he races after the beast. Seeing Harry approach, it snarls and drops Teddy, before charging at him.

Dodging it's claws, Harry apparates behind it and forces the power he's amassed directly into the werewolf's unguarded back. It collapses to the ground dead, forever frozen in its monstrous form. Staring at the huge brute, Harry knows without a doubt that if he'd had to rely on his wand tonight, that his son would be the one lying on the ground dead, and he's furious. Quickly using magic to get rid of the body, he spins around and rushes to where his weeping son lies. The deep puncture marks on Teddy's upper arm make Harry feel cold inside, because he knows what they mean.

If Teddy survives tonight, then he's going to become a werewolf, and there isn't a damn thing Harry can do about it. This never would have happened if he had just warded the front door better, but its too late and he's failed his son. Because of his mistake, Teddy is going to suffer for years, if not his entire life. Carefully gathering his shaking son up into his arms, Harry knows that he must try to avoid taking him to a wizarding hospital at all costs. Harry has seen exactly how other wizards will treat Edward if they know he's infected and Harry refuses to put his son through that.

No, saint Mungos should be the last resort, which leaves one other option to try first. Praying that muggles can help somehow, he heals what he can wandlessly, then rushes Teddy to a non-magical hospital. It's a long night, and his poor kid receives several stitches for the bites and scratches littering his tiny body, along with rabies vaccinations, but thankfully his son lives.

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Months pass and Full moons are hell on Teddy. Harry hates watching his son suffer because of a mistake **he **made but he doesn't know what else to do. Eventually Harry comes to the conclusion that if he wants to help his son then he'll have to make a potion himself. Resolutely Harry tracks down professor Slughorn, knowing that the man will be too flattered by the great Harry Potter asking for his help to refuse him. He's right, and so to make more time for the lessons, Harry quits his job as an Auror despite the ministry's protests.

It takes four years of relentless studying, but it all pays off when Harry is certified as a potions Master. He is fully capable of brewing his son wolfsbane potions, and has even begun to search for a more permanent solution. His research so far has only revealed that nowhere in history has a werewolf actually been cured, but Harry still has hope, so he keeps experimenting. The ministry thankfully remains unaware of his son's furry problem, but by now they are all aware that Harry has become an advanced potions Master. Because of this, it isn't hard to convince them to let him use infected criminals as test subjects for his attempts to eradicate lycanthropy.

It's thanks to this that Harry eventually finds new ways to treat the curses symptoms. His most recent elixir prevents werewolves from feeling any pain or being contagious when they undergo the transformation, and allows them to keep their minds. It's a major improvement and the wizarding world thanks him for it. Regrettably it's been difficult to make time for Teddy with everything else. Between potions classes, brewing wolfsbane, experimenting in the lab, and teaching himself wandless magic, he hasn't spent much time with his son.

It breaks his heart, but he can't do anything about it. He refuses to stop until he's cured Teddy. Sadly, Time doesn't stop for anyone, and before he knows it, he's twenty-eight years old, and his son's about to turn eleven.

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"Alright, one more time, what kind of cake do you want?" Harry asks. It's a week before Teddy's eleventh birthday, and he needs to go out and buy food for the party. He can't believe his baby is about to go to Hogwarts. He's getting too damn old!

"Lemon!" Teddy insists. Harry doesn't know when his kid started liking that flavor, but its probably Kreacher's fault. Harry can't stand the taste.

"Lemon for you it is," Harry says, repressing a shudder. He hates the taste, but if his son wants it then Harry will get him a damn lemon cake. "We'll also get chocolate and vanilla for your friends. Anything else you want while I'm out?" Harry asks, opening the door to leave.

"Nope, but when you get home you should teach me how to float so I can wow the other kids!" Teddy states hopefully.

"Teddy, you're already going to 'wow' them enough with all the wandless magic you know. I'm not sure Minerva will survive the heart attack you'll give her if you start floating around everywhere! …But we'll see," Harry laughs, pulling him in for a hug, "Are you sure you need to go to Hogwarts? I could always teach you here," Harry half offers, half begs, clutching Teddy closer. He hates that he is only going to see his kid a few times a year. Sure he'll have more time to work, but he'd prefer to have Teddy home and safe while he does it.

"No way! I have to go so I can get on a quidditch team. I want to be a seeker like you were," Teddy says seriously.

"All right… But if you ever want to quit school, and live at home forever, -Daddy's here," Harry swears, nuzzling Teddy's fluffy mane. He's proud of his kid for going, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. At least Teddy knows when to take his potions, and how to ward his bed so no one will discover his little furry problem.

"I love you too dad," Teddy says, smiling up at him. It's so damn cute Harry goes in for one last hug.

"I'll try to get back as soon as I can," Harry says, pulling back and heading out the door before he can change his mind. Closing the door, he turns and makes sure all of his wards are in place, inside and out. When he's sure Teddy will be safe, he heads down the street towards the nearest shopping center. There are all kinds of things he'll need for Teddy's big day tomorrow. After all, this year will be the last birthday that Teddy is at home to celebrate it with him.

He's a few blocks away from the first store, considering whether or not to teach Teddy to float, when something slams into the back of his head. Between one blink and the next he collapses to the ground. Foreign hands tear at his robe, but Harry is unable to move even a finger to stop them from pilfering his pockets. His glasses are lost in the altercation, but he can still see that there's red everywhere. Distantly, he realizes that the red is his own blood pooling around him, and he knows with grim certainty that he isn't going to make it.

The thing Harry regrets the most as the world fades away, is that he won't live long enough to cure his son.

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A beeping noise wakes Harry an indeterminate amount of time later. Confused, Harry looks towards the sound and sees that he's hooked up to some sort of heart monitor. Remembering the blow he took to the head earlier, and all of the blood he lost, he's not really shocked to be in a hospital. What is surprising is that he's alive, and that even though his glasses are still missing, he can clearly read the devices around him. He's very confused.

Assessing his current state, he can feel his head stinging a little, but other than that everything seems normal. He's definitely not paralyzed, or dead, which is a relief, but he has no idea how that is possible. Something isn't right, but he can't bring himself to care, because he's alive and able to see his son again. Sitting up, he tells himself that it's entirely possible that he just hallucinated all that blood.

"Oh my god. You're awake! That's incredible er- I mean, hello, I'm Dr Stross," the scruffy man in scrubs fumbles to say.

"What happened to me?" Harry demands. He hopes Teddy isn't too worried about him. He has no idea how long he's been here.

"Someone mugged you and left you for dead. You lost quite a bit of blood from a severe head injury, and when you flat lined the staff were unable to restart your heart. We'd pretty much given up on you when your heart just started back up on it's own. It's a miracle that you're alive really," Stross exclaims.

Blinking Harry asks, "So I'm fine?"

"Strangely enough, yes! At the least I expected brain damage or some form of paralysis, but here you are sitting up and talking. I've never seen anything like it!" Stross declares, looking at Harry like he's the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

"That's great. Where do I sign out?" Harry deadpans. He doesn't like this doctor, or doctors in general really. Probably because they'd never been able to help him as a child when the Dursleys used to rough him up. He wants out of the hospital. The sooner the better.

"Sir, we should really hold you overnight just to make sure-" the doctor starts to say, before Harry casts a memory altering charm at him.

"You won't remember any part of this conversation. You came in here to check on the patient and found him dead. If anyone asks, you had someone remove the body, and have contacted the family of the deceased. Understand?" Harry demands. The spelled man nods slowly.

"Good," Harry says. Wobbling to his feet, he apparates home and almost collapses on his way down the hall. Leaning against the wall for support, he takes a few deep breaths to try and center himself.

"Master Potter? What happened?!" Kreacher asks, alarmed as he takes in the bandage wrapped around Harry's head. Wincing at the volume, Harry turns towards the elf.

"It's nothing, I just bumped my head," Harry lies. "Would you help me get these bandages off and take a look at it?" Harry asks, motioning to the cloth wrapped tightly around his skull

"Yes Master," Kreacher says, carefully helping him to his room. Entering his bedroom, Harry maneuvers to where he can see himself in the mirror hanging on his wall as creature begins to unwrap the bandages around his head. He needs too assess how bad the damage is so he can try to heal it if he has to. The last of the bandages comes off but no matter how closely Harry looks, there isn't even a mark from where he was bludgeoned. As he looks closer at himself, he notices that other scars have also mysteriously vanished …including the horcrux scar on his forehead.

His body has also changed in other subtle ways; he's actually grown an inch or two, giving him a slightly leaner look; it's disturbing. Warily looking himself over one last time, Harry walks away, determined to figure this out some other time, preferably after his son leaves for Hogwarts. Right now he has a party to set up, and he has to go shopping all over again.

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Time seems to fly by over the next few years. Teddy is sorted into Ravenclaw where he excels in all of his classes, and on the field. His son is the latest and greatest seeker of the family, and Harry couldn't be more proud. Frankly, he'd be proud no matter what, he's just glad that Teddy doesn't get into near as much trouble as he did when he was younger. Some nights he has nightmares of Teddy fighting off basilisks and wakes up in a cold sweat.

Thankfully that never happens. Teddy is a well-behaved child who makes many a new friend each year at Hogwarts, which is a relief. Around the winter hols during Teddy's third year of school, all of Harry's hard work finally pays off when he succeeds in making a lycanthropy cure. For the first time Harry becomes known throughout the wizarding world for more than just defeating Voldemort. It feels amazing.

The cure is going to help so many people, which is fantastic, but really Harry's just happy that he can finally help his son. It feels wonderful to know that Teddy won't suffer for his mistakes anymore.

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It's been a few months since the cure was released, and Harry is taking a small break from an extremely delicate project when he receives a fire call from saint Mungos.

"I am sorry to inform you of this Mr. Potter, but your son was attacked during a Hogsmead outing, and, well… It isn't good. We've done our best to patch him up, but his injuries are far too severe. There's nothing more we can do for him. You'd best hurry, he doesn't have long left," the nurse informed him somberly. Stricken, Harry rushes to the school hospital wing where the new nurse quickly directs him to Teddy. Red skin and blood contrast sickeningly with the white hospital sheets his poor son is laying on. Tired, bloodshot, heterochromatic eyes stare sadly up at him from the mess that was once Teddy's sweet face.

"What happened?!" Harry croaks as he stares helplessly at all of the damage.

"Greyback," Teddy wheezes, "Wanted revenge. The cure- But s'not your fault dad. Don't blame you… you did the righ- ***cough*** the right thing making it. You just wanted to help. I know that, so don't- don't blame yourself for this." Harry wants to hold Teddy, to comfort both of them, but he doesn't want to risk hurting his son even more, so he holds himself back.

"Shh… hush Teddy bear, its gonna be alright. You're gonna be ok!" Harry insists. _'For the love of Merlin, please, I can't lose the only real family I've ever had. Not because of another one of my screw-ups. Please not my Teddy,' _Harry silently pleads to anyone who might be listening.

"It's not alright. The people here can't fix me dad, -but it's ok. I know they can't, and that's ok. I'm just glad that I got to see you one more time. I love you dad," Teddy states, trying to make this easier on his father. He's well aware that his dad blames himself for anything even remotely bad that happens to him, and he doesn't want this to be one of them.

His father has spent his whole life doing nothing but caring for him, and cleaning up whatever messes he makes. He hates that he's going to put his father through hell all over again. Teddy really wishes that it didn't have to end this way.

"NO! No, I can help you; I know I can! All you have to do is give me permission, and I'll find a way. Just say yes, _please_," Harry begs, tears rolling freely down his face. If his son doesn't want to live then he won't make him, but if Teddy gives him permission then Harry will save him. No matter how long it takes, he'll fix everything and get his son back.

"…Ok. If you want to try, then you have my permission, just -don't get your hopes up," Teddy reluctantly agrees. His body is exhausted, and he just wants to give in, but his father has asked him to try.

"Thank you," Harry sobs. Shaking, he backs up and casts as many stasis charms as he can think of on Teddy. When he's sure that he'll make it home alive, Harry gently scoops him up with his magic, and then runs them as quickly as he can to the nearest floo. They make it to his lab in record time, where Harry begins to work.

He tries everything he can think of to fix his son. Potions, spells, muggle surgery, everything, but in the end there's nothing he can do. For two weeks his home resounds with Teddy's tormented screams as Harry repeatedly tries and fails to save him. At the end of the fourth day Teddy begins to beg for death; Harry gives in ten days later, and ends his son's pain with a swift Avada.

Standing by the empty husk, Harry feels something inside of him grow cold. It's a relief because if he was able to feel anything, he might not be able to gather the necessary samples from the stiffening corpse. He'll need them later if he is going to get his son back. How he'll do it, Harry doesn't know, but he has to try. Hair, blood, and tissue samples are all collected from the body before he reluctantly orders Kreacher to cremate it.

The elf, unlike him, is openly weeping, but he still does as instructed. Harry's eyes remain dry as he watches the process, unsure of what he should do now, but in the end he decides he is owed some time to grieve as well. Kreacher is inconsolable, so Harry has to wander aimlessly to the nearest store himself. He purchases nothing but hard liquor, then meanders back home where he sits in his favorite wing backed chair drinking and pondering what to do. There are two things he wants, Fenrir Greyback dead, and to have his son alive again.

Throughout his life Harry has lost everyone that's ever mattered to him; Ginny, his parents, Sirius, Remus, and countless others, but he refuses to let his son be one of them. This time he's going to get someone back. It'll take awhile, but in the meantime he can check off one of the two things on his very short list of goals. Drunk on vodka and rage, Harry clenches his fists, as he thinks about the person responsible for this travesty. He wants the former wolf's head mounted on his wall, and his skin used as a rug.

In that moment there is nothing Harry wants more, and he needs it right away. Greyback took the only thing Harry loves, so he needs to die. Mind muddled with liquor, he stumbles to the front door, determined to have his revenge. Kreacher tries to stop him, but Harry just shrugs him off. It is with eager anticipation and a bottle in hand that he goes to hunt down the monster.

…It doesn't go well. Somehow, he finds Greyback, but he's too drunk to aim properly, and he ends up taking a blasting curse to the head spraying his brain matter everywhere.

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_**"**__**It's been awhile since the last time we met, hasn't it Master?"**_ Opening his eyes at the familiar rasp, Harry turns to Death confused as he takes in the empty train station for the second time. He thought that he'd dreamed this place up, but apparently not.

"I thought you said I'd never come back here?" Harry asks curiously, with a hint of relief in his voice. Maybe he'll get to see Teddy again after all.

Death shakes it's head and says_**," No, I said you would never board a train, and you won't. This is just where your soul has chosen to go while I repair your body; normally you wouldn't actually be aware of being here, but it takes a little longer to fix you if magic is involved in your death."**_

"Oh," Harry exhales disappointedly.

_**"**__**It's curious,"**_ the Reaper hisses, grinning slyly_, __**"That you have yet to use any of my gifts… I expected that you would have at least used the resurrection stone to see your son again."**_ Harry pales as it dawns on him that the only item he could have used to see Teddy again was lost Merlin knows where in the forbidden forest.

_**"**__**Mmm, yes, throwing the stone away was quite foolish of you Master… Fortunately for you, you have me, your eternally faithful servant,"**_Death smirks, reaching out to grasp Harry's hand. A light, familiar weight drops into Harry's palm. For a moment he feels relieved, but then the stone liquefies and dissolves into his hand.

"What have you done?!" Harry howls angrily. How would he ever see his son again without the stone?

_**"**__**Now, now Master, calm down. It's not gone, I've simply decided that I'm tired of watching you toss away my hallows. To prevent this I've changed the stone to be the blood that flows through your veins,"**_ Death states, and then continues, in a low deadly voice_, __**"I can't understand why you would ever want to be rid of my presents in the first place. I've given you a stone to see the dead, a cloak to hide your loved ones from my sight, and have even given you infinite magical power… But you tossed aside my stone, have been planning to break my wand, which you only used once, and placed my cloak in a locked box to collect dust!"**_ Harry leans away nervously as Death floats above him menacingly, stating, _**"I chose you as my Master, and you accepted the position when you didn't board the train."**_

Leaning forward, Death towers over him, his cloak snapping in a nonexistent wind and snarls_, __**"I want you to use my gifts! I want to see what the wizard I chose to hold my power can do with it! They are not the trash that you have been treating them as. No one else can ever be my Master, and I don't want another one. The hallows are for your use alone, **__**so you WILL use them**__**!"**_

Gripping Harry's shoulder Death ominously hisses, _**"Even if I have to make you,"**_ and then it shoves the elder wand directly into Harry's heart. Choking on a scream, Harry watches helplessly as the wand is absorbed into his body. Pure, unlimited power, pumps through his veins eating at his magical core to make room for itself. Harry can tell that his magic is losing, but it fights to the bitter end against the invasive power that is rapidly and painfully assimilating it. Pained howls are wrenched from him, and he would have collapsed, if Death hadn't gripped his shoulder to hold him steady.

"Why?" Harry croaks quietly, as the pain fades away and darkness begins moving towards them in waves. He doesn't understand why the being won't just leave him alone.

_**"Because you are very interesting Harry Potter, and you remind me of an old friend,"**__ Death _murmurs as the lights flicker out.

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Harry blinks awake to the sound of panicked shouting. Greyback, and his cronies, who are beyond terrified, stand stunned around his rising form.

"This isn't possible! I killed you!" Greyback chokes, backing away from him.

"I'm a hard man to kill," Harry says, spiting out fragments of his skull, as he stands up and walks towards his would be murderer.

"The hell with this!" one of the terrified men squeaks, wisely taking off. He is the only man to survive the next few hours. After slaughtering all of Fenrir's followers who were foolish enough to stay and fight, Harry takes his time wringing scream after scream from Greyback. It's all a bit of a rage-filled blur for a while, but eventually Harry acknowledges that there are more important things that he needs to focus on. Teddy isn't going to resurrect himself after all, but he refuses to leave before he gets one more thing.

"_Apologize, and I'll let you die,"_ Harry hisses towards the mess that was once Greyback. He doesn't notice that he's slipped into parseltongue, but Fenrir does and he quakes in fear.

"F-f-fug o-ou!" Greyback whimpers through his broken jaw. Harry doesn't remember breaking it, but that doesn't surprise him because he doesn't remember much of the last few hours. That should probably worry him but he can't bring himself to care.

"Apologize," Harry orders, subconsciously slipping back into English. Greyback glares up at him then spits on his boots. Lifting the shoe, he presses it down on the brute's sternum until Greyback goes blue in the face. "If you don't apologize, I'm just going to hurt you more and more until you do. Depending on how stubborn you are that could take hours. In the end, you're going to apologize, and then I'm going to kill you. The only unknown variable here is how soon you'll cave. Do you _really_ want to be in more pain than you currently are?" Harry asks, sneering down at the disfigured man by his feet.

Sobbing, Greyback curls in on himself and chokes, "S-sowwy…"

"What? I can't hear you, so you must not be very sincere," Harry snarls, before casting crucio.

"M' SORWY!" Greyback Howls, seizing on the ground.

Closing his eyes, Harry savors the blood curdling wails one last time before casting, "Avada Kedavra!" Greyback falls silent and still, but Harry's mind still echoes with his son's screams.

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"I'm home…" Harry calls softly as he apparates into his room at Grimmauld. No one answers back, so Harry assumes that Kreacher is still pissed at him for leaving in a drunken rage. Shrugging, Harry makes his way towards his bed, exhausted and ready to retire for the evening, when he sees an old scrapbook he'd been flipping through earlier, lying open on his bedside table. Recalling his conversation with Death, he gently picks up the book and flips through it, finally noticing what he should have a long time ago. Throughout the book, all the pictures of Teddy grow and age, but after a certain point, Harry who is often standing near him, does not.

Whirling around, he looks into his mirror with the book held open, and is shocked when he compares his current look to the earliest pictures of him and Teddy. Whereas before, he looks scrawny and scruffy, now he looks taller and definitely healthier; though he rarely eats or sleeps these days. His hair that he'd lazily let grow, hangs past his hips looking wavy and glossy. His eyes are less his mothers green, and more of an Avada Kedavra shade, promising death to all who fall before his gaze. His skin is now a flawless creamy pale, and his whole body has filled out for a more lean and muscular look as well.

Overall, his features have become more androgynously handsome. The healthier look isn't what's wrong though. What's wrong is that even though so many things have changed, he definitely hasn't aged at all for a while now. Thinking back, Harry wonders when he'd stopped, and remembers the night he'd been mugged and left for dead so many years ago. His scars had started fading the next morning, and his glasses had become unnecessary, but he'd been too busy at the time to give the changes more than a passing glance. He wishes he had.

Now he's standing face to face with a stranger, and he doesn't have a single bloody idea what he's supposed to do. Squeezing his eyes shut, he leans his head against the mirror and prays that when he opens them that he'll see his old face. He has no such luck, and the proof that it's still perplexingly real stands there looking back at him with its mesmerizingly green eyes. Puzzling over what his next move should be, he remembers Death giving him the stone, and the painful burn of the elder wand eating at his core. Excitement thrums through Harry's veins like the stone in his blood as it occurs to him that if he merely wishes for it, he could have his son back now.

He is mere seconds away from summoning his son, when he remembers the story of what happened to the wife of the man in the deathly hallows story. He refuses to put Teddy through that, but there has to be a way around causing his son constant pain! Pacing, he considers and trashes a dozen different ideas before he realizes that all he has to do is get Teddy a body, and then put his soul into it. Everything he's ever heard about resurrection says that people come back wrong because the caster can't bring back the soul. He's already doing better than most people, because he already has access to Teddy's soul.

Laughing madly, Harry accepts that his lack of aging is going to be a major benefit here. He'll have all the time in the world to solve this problem. Failing now seems like an impossibility rather than an inevitable conclusion, and it's exhilarating. He **IS** going to get his son back, no matter how long it takes. Placing the scrapbook down, he heads to his lab; any desire for sleep forgotten in this moment of triumph and discovery.

He's got a lot of work to do.

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Well, I hope you guys have enjoyed the new and improved first chapter to this story! I've worked very hard and would love to hear your opinions on the new version, so feel free to comment, but please no flames! ^_^


	2. The Abyss Stared Back

Finally got the time to perfect this part, hope you all anjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Warnings: Lots of violence, and cursing. Slash in later chapters.

Normal speech: "Hey."

Thinking: '_Hey.'_

Death speaking: _**"Hey."**_

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Awareness returns to Teddy with his first desperate inhalation. Overcome by flashes of his last agonizing weeks of life, Teddy clenches his eyes shut and adjusts his quivering limbs, curling himself into a defensive ball. Sobs of relief wrack his pubescent form at the absence of pain, but his tears fall far more swiftly as it dawns on him how he has arrived at this 'oasis' from torment. His father, his kind and unfailing hero... has given up on him.

Undoubtedly he'd done it to be merciful, but Teddy doesn't want mercy from his father. No, Teddy would rather suffer by his father's side than never see him again. It isn't like he hadn't been through similar anguish before. Nothing has ever come close to causing him the distress he'd once endured with every transformation into his lupine form. The biggest difference had been the length of his suffering. That's what had overwhelmed him to the point that he'd helplessly begged for death, though he dearly wishes he'd refrained.

At least when he'd been on the carving slab he could be sure of his father's unwavering devotion to him. He'd seen it in his father's tormented eyes as Teddy instinctually begged for an end to the constant burning brought by surgically precise hands. Here, wherever he is now, that loving and determined presence is absent. Teddy can sense somehow that should he remain, he will never feel it's gentle brush again.

Unacceptable.

Yanking harshly at his hair, Teddy desperately wails, "FATHER!" and listens, not yet daring to open his eyes. The answering silence is unbearable, -maddening even. Clenching his teeth, Teddy opens his eyes. Surrounding him on all sides is an empty gray abyss. The silently swirling mists bring him no comfort, only a growing feeling of entrapment.

Shakily uncurling from his crouch, Teddy scours the barren void for a means by which to leave its daunting reach. He has to return to his father. He can't bear the thought of leaving him alone to suffer when he only did what Teddy regrettably begged for him to do. His father is far too kind, though Teddy is unable to begrudge him for the trait. He's Teddy's hero after all: kind, brave, and loyal only to him.

That loyalty is why Teddy refuses to remain here, because he shares it. He'd do anything to ensure his father's happiness, and is well aware that without him around the man might very well go mad.

'_But how do I escape from death?'_ Teddy broods despondently, peering anxiously around the eerie zone he's landed in. A soft crackling sound echoes behind him causing him to tense. Reaching for his wand, Teddy comes up empty and feels tendrils of dread creep up his spine, more so when he notices a shadow lengthening from his feet. Cursing he slowly turns, then freezes with unease at the thing drifting slowly towards him through the mist. Creaking and cracking as it comes ever closer, is a tarnished golden mirror.

Adorning the top of its gleaming frame, Teddy can make out glyphs carved into it, although it's far too dark for them to be legible. The mirror stops its approach a mere foot in front of him, and for a moment all is quiet and still. Heart racing with apprehension, Teddy watches as the hazy mist occluding its surface ripples and fades. What he sees on the other side makes his stomach roil.

Breath hitching with terror, Teddy swiftly maneuvers out of the frame, hoping and praying that the thing on the other side hasn't noticed him. Quieting his breaths, he guardedly peers around the corner into a room of carmine carnage. Teddy's never seen so much red in all his life.

What he initially thought was a monster, is revealed to be a gore-coated individual with their back thankfully turned to Teddy. Long hair lies limply against an equally drenched cloak that drags against the floor, leaving red streaks as the being takes a leisurely step forward.

A wet crunching echoes beneath its sturdy boot, and Teddy struggles not to gag. Spread at the murderer's feet in a chaotic circle, are unrecognizable hunks of flesh and bone that are carelessly being stepped through. A door opens at one side of the room and a vicious looking goblin waddles in, bowing reverently before the blood soaked being.

"Lord Peverell, whenever you are finished here, the temporal sifter is prepared for your use," the goblin gloats, seeming pleased with itself. Teddy stiffens at the name Peverell, knowing from childhood storybooks that the Peverell's had a close relationship with death.

"Excellent. I will join you at the hall of time as soon as I take care of things here," replies a familiar male voice. The goblin inclines his head, leaving as Teddy ponders where he's heard those soothing tones before. At the loud thud of the door slamming shut, Teddy snaps out of his daze, tensing further as the man slowly turns around. The face that greets him leaves him choking on air.

"Dad?" Teddy pleads, hoping that what he's seeing is real.

"Teddy!" His exuberant father exclaims, beaming at him.

"Oh thank Merlin, you're really here," Teddy blubbers, pressing as close to the glass as he can, unable to get through but still too relieved to care. His father is here, he didn't really give up on Teddy, and he never will. Slowly starting to process information again, he takes in the blood covering his father and demands, "What happened? Are you hurt? Who did this to you?!"

"It's alright Teddy, I'm fine, I promise that none of it is mine," he swears, green eyes never straying from Teddy's equally emerald gaze.

"Wait, then whose-?" Teddy starts, then he blanched, again taking in the horrific scene surrounding his father. His father, who is coated in gore, looking relieved and smiling at him like it's the winter hols come early. "…Oh shite, did you do this? Why?!" Teddy demands.

"I only did what was necessary in order to bring you back," his poor, mad father swears, pressing a blood soaked hand to the glass between them, uncaring as he steps through the remains of one of the unlucky bastards who had been deemed 'necessary'. "I told you I'd save you. Soon you'll even have your own body again," Harry sighs, lovingly stroking the backs of his fingers along the outline of Teddy's face, leaving red streaks across the glass.

Cringing at the idea that this is somehow his fault- that his father's insanity had been caused by him, Teddy covers his eyes and groans, "I didn't mean for you to do this. I didn't want you to kill people!"

"I'm sorry if what I've done has upset you, but I-," his father breathes deeply, leans his wet red face against the glass and confesses softly, "I missed you… Merlin I've missed you." As if saying the words shattered some dam within him, he began to cry. Teddy has only ever seen his father cry on the anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts, so the fact that he's crying about how much he's missed Teddy startles him enough to momentarily forget why he was upset at the man.

"Dad it's fine, I'm here now! Please don't cry," Teddy begs, wanting nothing more than to hug his father, but the glass prevents him from reaching him, "You look the same so I can't have been gone for too long!" Looking up through watering eyes, he shakes his head at Teddy.

"I may not look like I've aged," he cautiously informs Teddy, wiping his face in an attempt to dry it only to spread more blood beneath his lashes, making Teddy eye the red uncomfortably, "but in a few days I'll be two hundred years old."

"…What." Teddy deadpans, stunned. His father has never lied to him, so it must be true, but Teddy can't help but wonder, "How?"

"Do you remember the fairytale about the three brothers and Death? The one I used to read to you?" he asks, only confusing Teddy more.

"Yes?" Teddy mutters, not sure where this is going. Vaguely he remembers the goblin who'd been in the room earlier calling his father Lord Peverell.

"A long time ago I was able to collect all three hallows, making me the Master of Death. That's how I was able to defeat Voldemort, and it's also how I survived the killing curse. As Death's Master, I can't die, and I don't age," he gently informs Teddy, looking worried about how he'll take the news.

"Ok, but that doesn't explain how I'm back after almost two hundred years. What is this place you've put me in?" Teddy asks tonelessly, trying to accept what his father has told him and what it truly means. All of the people he knows -_knew_, are either dead or on their deathbeds, while his father is an immortal who has spent the last two centuries trying to resurrect him. It sounds too insane to be real.

"This is just a container really. I needed to store your soul somewhere safe for the journey to the place where we can restore your body," he explains to Teddy, continuing, "The problem was that I couldn't get your soul to bond with an object because it wasn't my own soul. I fixed that by ritually bonding our souls together, which created a link between them. The next step was simple, I just picked a powerful magical object –in this case I chose the mirror of Erised, and then split our souls again, making you into a horcrux."

"…A HORCRUX?! You made me into a horcrux? Like what that monster Voldemort did to you?" Teddy demands, feeling nauseous. This can't be happening. Memory says that his father would never do something so horrible to him, and yet he has, so what's changed? "Why? Why would you do this to me?" Teddy insists, needing to know.

Eyes still unwaveringly fixed on Teddy's face, his father curls in on himself and says quietly, "The war took everyone from me, my family, my closest friends, the woman I loved- " here he pauses, face blank in an obvious attempt to distance himself from the memory, but Teddy knows how much his father had been hurt by losing his Ginny. He isn't sure if it's still there after so many years, but a picture of the woman playing quidditch had remained on their fireplace all of Teddy's life. It was dusty, and hidden behind countless photos of Teddy himself, but it stood there all the same, unmoved.

"…But it also gave me you," he continues, smiling gently at Teddy, "Since the day you were first put into my arms, I've loved you more than anything. You were and still are, the best gift I've ever received."

"When Greyback-," he stops, hands clenching, causing some of the blood coating them to drip off more rapidly. "I couldn't lose you too. Not my baby," he tells Teddy quietly, pressing his forehead to the glass in a futile attempt to get closer. In that moment their eyes meet again and within his father's haunted green orbs, Teddy sees that two hundred years without him have nearly destroyed his father.

Overwhelmed, tears fill Teddy's eyes as he takes in the loneliness and desperation practically carved into his father's face. He still feels hurt and angry over what's been done to him, but he just can't make himself direct that anger at his father when he's already suffered so much. That doesn't mean he can just forgive him for what he's done either.

"After that day, I spent every waking moment trying to get you back. I'd made a promise to you and I was going to keep it," his father says, voice echoing with nearly two centuries of resolve. "We're so close now Teddy. Just a little longer and I will be able to give you your body back. You won't be a horcrux afterwards I promise," Harry swears.

"What are you planning to do?" Teddy asks, wondering anxiously what kind of magic his father is going to perform to give back his physical form. With dawning horror, Teddy realizes that it's probably going to be magic requiring something similar to the ritual his father just used.

"We're going to go back in time for the main item that we need. It ceased to exist around four hundred years ago, so we're going back to get it," Harry informs him. Teddy blinks, unsure if he's hearing this right.

"What? How on earth are you going to get us there?" Teddy asks incredulously.

"I've been working with the goblins to build a more powerful version of a time turner, and it's finally complete," His father proudly informs him, then smiling brightly says, "Now that your soul is safely contained, we can begin the real journey!" Waving a hand he gestures towards Teddy, making the mirror he's in rise and follow behind an eagerly striding Harry as he turns and makes his way out the door into a long golden hall.

Teddy demands, "Does whatever we're going back for require anything like that?" Still feeling sickened, Teddy gestures back at the room they came from to emphasize his query.

"I'm not entirely sure, but if it does I'll try to avoid making a mess while you're around. I am so sorry that you had to see this upon your return," His father apologizes, waving a hand and banishing all of the blood and gore from his person.

"That's not why I was asking that. I don't care about you making a mess; I don't want you to hurt anyone else for me. Please father!" Teddy pleads.

"I can't promise that I won't, because I will do whatever it takes. I'm far too close to stop now," His father frowns, slowing down to look back at him.

"But I don't want you to! I don't know how many people you hurt after I died, but this has to stop. _You_ need to stop!" Teddy insists, trying to get through to him.

"I can't," Harry says softly. His eyes plead with Teddy to understand, but Teddy doesn't want to. Sighing, his father raises a hand towards him, and Teddy has a moment to blink and feel a trickle of trepidation, then the world goes black.

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It's been awhile guys, I'm so sorry for the wait -life can be a real pain sometimes. I swear if I had the time I'd post more frequently! There will be more someday!

-I DO PLAN ON FINISHING THIS! EVENTUALLY!-


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole We Go

I'm getting there guys!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Warnings: Lots of violence, and cursing. Slash in later chapters.

Normal speech: "Hey."

Thinking: '_Hey.'_

Death speaking: _**"Hey."**_

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_'I'm going to die here,'_ Tom Riddle dreads, heart racing as he desperately struggles to free his pinned legs. Another magical explosion rocks the ground near him, and Tom shields his head in a feeble attempt to protect himself. All around him the inhabitants of Hogsmead flee in screaming hoards from Gellert Grindelwald, a man that Tom had fantasized allying with one day. He now realizes how foolish those hopes were.

Uncovering his face, Tom claws at the ground with everything he has, and manages to rip his nails in exchange for being a few precious centimeters closer to freedom. It's painful but he has no other choice because who knows when or if the Aurors will arrive. It could be hours, and based on the loud booms drawing ever closer, Tom doesn't have that kind of time.

Straining with everything he has, Tom reaches towards his only possible salvation. On the ground, lying mere inches out of reach is his wand. If he were just a little taller, or had simply held on tighter to it when the explosions started then he wouldn't be in this situation. Now that he is, he's confronted with a terrible realization; without that wand, he is nothing. He has no power, and is just as weak as the muggles he despises even after a year and a half of training at Hogwarts. He's so terrified and repulsed at being helpless that he feels sick.

Just as his fingertips finally brush against the hilt, a massive quake starts up throughout Hogsmead, one of the tremors sending his wand rolling into his grasp.

Twisting back, Tom points at the biggest chunk of wood crushing him and casts a swift, "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" The moment the pieces on top of him rise high enough he scrambles out from underneath them. Shaking with terror and relief, Tom stays low to the ground and looks to see what new curse is causing the whole village to crumble. Not far away from him stands Grindelwald, who appears to either not have noticed him, or just cares more about the massive hole tearing through the stormy skies above them.

Thunder roars as if the clouds are filled with raging dragons; lightning flashing like the curses' being cast down below. Instead of crashing into the ground, the bolts all appear to be flying towards a black hole widening at the storm's epicenter. Every blinding arc is absorbed by the black, which then widens and flares vibrant green.

"What fearsome beast have you summoned my Lord?" A masked follower asks, seeming anxious as he looks to Grindelwald.

"This enchantment isn't mine," Grindelwald says slowly, staring transfixed as the green lightening begins coiling inward. That's all Tom needs to hear before he's rolling to his feet and hobbling on injured legs for cover. Whatever is coming it's a powerful unknown, and Tom doesn't plan on being in it's way. Ducking behind the remnants of a shop, Tom stays low and watches the swirling vortex.

He hides not a moment too soon, because just as the eerie light coalesces within the black hole's center, a beam of blinding light blasts downward with an earth-shattering boom. Dirt and debris explode outward, and the remaining stable buildings collapse adding to the chaos. As the dust obscuring everyone's view begins to settle, the air begins to feel heavy with power. Stiffening, Tom feels a strangely compelling pull to seek the source of it out. It feels familiar; like he should know this power because it resonates with his own magic, calling to him. The temptation and promise of all that power nearly overwhelms Tom, but he clenches his fists and resists it's siren song until blood drips between his knuckles.

The power doesn't just call out to him.

"NO!" Grindelwald shouts, drawing Tom's attention away from the blast zone in time to see the man's wand go flying towards the steaming pit, crumbling as it draws closer to the mists until it is nothing more than dust. "My hallow…" Grindelwald chokes, devastation etched across his face.

Tom wonders at the strange name Grindelwald chose for his wand, but his attention, along with everyone else's is drawn to the pit as a sudden chill fills the Hogsmead ruins. Slow, icy wind swirls about the street, thinning the mist until an outline becomes visible. A single hand, pale as a corpse's, and gleaming with power rises through the fog. With a swift slash it cuts through the steam, sending it billowing away.

A long emerald cloak flows gently around the stranger's feet as they stride cautiously forward. Long dark hair sways away from a pale face, as the man takes another surer step away from the pit, revealing eyes the color of death. The inhuman gaze seems to despair as it takes in the streets, searching for something. With a wave of his hand the beautiful stranger casts a tempus, then stares at the date as if it's broken his heart.

From where he's crouching Tom can see the man quietly mouthing, 'No', over and over, looking angrier with each repetition. Pure destructive power begins radiating from the man's every pore. It feels strangely familiar to Tom, but he's never seen this man in his life. He's intrigued.

"You'll pay for what you've done!" Grindelwald bellows, drawing the despairing beauty's attention. Angrily, Grindelwald flings a curse at the man using a second wand he'd had stowed somewhere.

_'How clever,'_ Tom notes, waiting dispassionately for the pale wizard to drop. He's barely started pondering where he might obtain another wand for himself when he sees the emerald-eyed stranger easily sidestep the Dark Lords curse.

"You picked the wrong day to mess with me," the man coolly informs Grindelwald, hands empty. Tom stares incredulously at him, wondering what he plans to do against an undefeated Dark Lord with no magic. There's clearly no hope for him, but he looks entirely un-phased, as if Grindelwald is the one who should be quivering in his boots. Tom can't tear his eyes away.

Either this man is insane, or he has a plan, and Tom is eager to see what the stranger thinks he has that's going to beat Gellert Grindelwald.

"You must be joking," Grindelwald sneers, looking down his nose at the stranger and noticing the empty hands as Tom had. "You have yet to even drawn your wand but you dare challenge me? Who do you think you are?!"

"Ah, how rude of me not to introduce myself. I suppose it's only polite to give you my name so that you know who to curse in the afterlife," the beauty quips, smirking maliciously as he introduces himself, "My name is Hadrian. Hadrian Peverell."

The introduction makes Grindelwald freeze and stare at Peverell, looking unsure of himself for a brief moment, but a moment nonetheless. Fascination growing, Tom wonders what's so special about the stranger's name that it's made the Dark Lord pause.

Shrugging off whatever apprehension he'd felt, Grindelwald lifts his wand angrily and grits out, "I don't care who you are. If anyone is going to be cursing in the afterlife, it will surely be _you_!" That said, Grindelwald launches a series of curses towards Peverell, who apparates away. -_**Apparates away without a wand!**_ Tom blinks and gapes at the spot where Peverell had been, and then whips his head around just in time to see him reappear next to Grindelwald and punch the wizard clear across the street.

The Dark Lord slams into a pile of rubble with a jarring crack. Wheezing from his obviously damaged ribs, Grindelwald stares at Peverell's empty hands along with Tom and everyone else.

"How?! You have no wand!" Grindelwald shouts, distractedly healing himself. Tom eagerly listens for an answer, unable to resist leaning as close as he can without revealing himself.

"I don't need one," Peverell sneers, looking repulsed, then says coolly, "If you don't get serious, then kicking your arse isn't going to be much fun for me." Grindelwald snarls and then casts a spell into the ground, which shakes and opens into a giant hungry maw beneath Peverell who simply apparates away again. Peverell then summons up a massive fiendfyre dragon and sends it soaring towards Grindelwald who apparates out of its path only slightly singed. His minions aren't so lucky.

One by one the hungry flames consume most of them. Grindelwald, infuriated by the loss of his followers, summons up a volley of blades and flings them at Peverell. The green-eyed wizard is able to banish most of them and only suffers a few scratches. Just as he's about to fling another curse at Grindelwald, the Dark Lord manages to apparate behind him and hold him at wand point. Tom tenses, stomach turning as he realizes that all of that power and knowledge is about to be snuffed out before he's even had a chance to obtain it.

_'What a loss,'_ Tom despairs; wishing that he'd had an opportunity to learn from the powerful wizard.

"It's such a shame that I have to kill you before figuring out how you are able to cast such powerful magic wandlessly. Any last words?" Grindelwald sneers, then freezes as one of Peverell's hands touch his face.

"I could ask you the same thing," Peverell hisses, hand glowing green as he fearlessly stares down his would be murderer as Tom watches in awe. The air seems to thicken with tension the longer the silent impasse lasts. Tom doesn't know who's going to win this battle of wills, but despite knowing Grindelwald's track record, he's willing to bet on the powerful unknown wizard. There's a fire in his eyes, a determination and life to them that refuses to be snuffed out.

"Why have you sided with those filthy mudbloods anyway? You're like me aren't you? Pure, powerful… Not tainted with muggle filth like _them_," Grindelwald sneers, using his free hand to gesture to where Tom is crouching.

Lip curling, Tom sneers right back at his former idol, silently realizing, _'He's not the great man that I believed him to be if he can't recognize the greatness in me.'_ As if agreeing with Tom, Peverell apparates behind Grindelwald, and grips him firmly by the back of his neck with a glowing hand.

Tom can hear the conviction in every word as Hadrian states firmly, "Magic is magic. Some people have it, others don't. It doesn't matter where it comes from, as long as you have it, and that kid over there has it in spades. You must be magically incompetent if you cannot sense the potential from over here." Tom has never heard such sincere praise in his life. It touches him deeply in a way he's never felt before and he wants more. He craves it along with the promise of power that Peverell emanates, and what Tom wants, he always ensures that he gets it.

Grindelwald looks at Tom with consideration for a brief moment, as if entertaining the idea, then snorts dismissively and glares back at Peverell.

"That boy could never hope to reach our level, but it's useless telling you this because you've already chosen your side," Grindelwald scoffs, enraging Tom with every casual insult he aims at him. Looking over his shoulder at Peverell, the blonde demands, "Now don't toy with me, finish this. Right or wrong, you've won this day, but if you show me mercy, know this; I won't show the same when I return."

Tom watches cool resolution fill Peverell's eyes as he tightens his sickly green grip around the Dark Lords neck. Tom waits breathlessly, eager to see what a wandless Avada Kedavra looks like. Unfortunately, just before Peverell can off the former most powerful wizard, several loud snaps fill the air. Tom frowns disappointedly as he sees that the Aurors have finally arrived, wands pointed at the two titans that turned Hogsmead to rubble.

"Sir, please release the war criminal into Ministry custody!" The scarred man in the lead shouts, cautiously approaching the duo. A reluctant looking Peverell allows him close enough to place magic nullifying cuffs on Grindelwald and then attempts to back away. Just before Peverell is completely out of reach, Grindelwald lunges towards him and bites deeply into his lip. Shocked silence fills the area as the two powerhouses glare one another down until Grindelwald grins at Peverell, licking the other man's blood off his lip.

"Azkaban won't hold me for long. You can plan on seeing me soon spitfire," Grindelwald states, leering confidently at Peverell who looks entirely unamused. So unamused that mere seconds later a sharp crack fills the air as he breaks Grindelwald's cheekbone with his fist. The Aurors seeing this finally snap into action and drag Grindelwald away as he curses and then starts laughing as if Peverell was being funny. A silencing spell is placed on Grindelwald just before he is apparated away by some of the nervous Aurors.

The scarred Auror and his team approach an irritated Peverell cautiously, and then the lead extends his hand.

"I don't know who you are, or what possessed you to face down the Dark Lord all on your own, but you've stopped a madman that we had no hope of defeating, and in doing so have saved countless lives. On behalf of the entire wizarding world, I thank you, Mr…?"

"Hadrian Peverell, Lord of the ancient and powerful house of Peverell," he replies, shaking the offered hand once firmly.

"Gerald Abbott," Abbott introduces himself, then says, "I'd greatly appreciate it if you could accompany me to the ministry Lord Peverell. We need to get a statement from you and the minister will want to give you a proper thank you. It's not every day that Grindelwald is defeated after all."

For a moment Peverell's eyes widen slightly as if surprised, and then his face goes entirely blank, hiding whatever emotions he's sifting through.

"...I'd be delighted," Peverell finally says, a polite smile curling his lips but not quite reaching his eyes.

"Excellent," Abbott quips, looking relieved that Peverell isn't going to refuse, "We should go now then -the sooner we send word of the Dark Lord's defeat the better." Tom's eyes widen as Abbott motions for Peverell to take his arm.

"Wait!" Tom calls out anxiously, staggering out of his hiding spot as swiftly towards Peverell as his injured legs will go. Someday that man is going to teach Tom everything he knows, but for today at least it will be enough if the most powerful wizard in the world remembers his name. Tom is most certainly going to remember his.

"Thank you," Tom breathes as he reaches the man's side, staring up at him. "You saved my life."

Peverell nods and replies, "It was no trouble, I'm glad you're alright." Tilting his head to the side, he stares at Tom and muses aloud, "You really do have a lot of potential… What's your name?"

"Tom Riddle, second year Slytherin at Hogwarts," Tom announces proudly, inwardly beaming at hearing such high praise. If Tom had been paying more attention to Peverell himself instead of focusing on the praise he'd received, he might have noticed the flash of recognition that flitted briefly over the man's face, but instead the look goes unnoticed.

"Hogwarts huh? Hasn't the school year already started then? What are you doing here?" Peverell queries.

"We were having a chaperoned visit to Hogsmead when the attack started and I got separated from my group," Tom says, some of the mind numbing fear from earlier creeping in. Looking away from Peverell, Tom lets some of his frutration show as he admits, "I got trapped and lost hold of my wand. I couldn't reach it, and there was nothing I could do, but you… You don't need a wand. Why?"

For a long moment Peverell simply stares down at Tom, clearly judging whether Tom is worthy or not, but before he can decide, Abbott interrupts and says, "Sorry son but we've got to go. There's all kinds of work that has to be sorted through now that the Dark Lords been apprehended. I'm sure your professors are worried about you too." Tom barely refrains from cursing the man. Instead he nods and smiles politely at Peverell while plotting how he's going to murder Abbott for this slight.

"Yes, of course. Thank you again Lord Peverell, I hope we meet again someday," Tom says, smiling politely and offering his hand.

"It's certainly been interesting Mr. Riddle. I'm sure any future meeting would be the same," Peverell returns, reaching out with his own slender hand. The moment their hands clasp, Tom feels a painful tearing from deep within himself. That pain is quickly replaced by a soothing warmth which fills his entire being, radiating through him from where his hand is being clasped gently within Peverell's own. Tom wants to bask in this feeling for all of eternity, and he might have if his hand wasn't released, cutting off all of that delightful glow.

Bewildered and breathless, Tom opens eyes that he was unaware that he'd closed and stares into Peverell's confused and slightly amused face just before Abbott grabs his shoulder and they disappear. Tom stares blankly at the spot where Peverell was and begins strategizing how he's going to get the man and that strange warmth back. He wants to feel that warmth again almost as much as he wants to know the secret to wandless magic. Tom is sure that both will prove to be quite challenging to acquire, especially considering that Peverell's presence will soon be in high demand.

_'Perhaps one of my 'friends' could help,'_ Tom thinks, a small smirk forming as he begins staggering back to Hogwarts.

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Hope you all liked this! Reviews are inspiration/love, no flames please ^_^


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